Anonymous

-Yeah, hold on a second. -What were you saying?

-Taxi! Taxi! -All right, what are you saying?

l'm asking why you thought you didn't have to be on time.

Finally. God, come on.

-Sorry. -Yeah. At last.

Good. Great.

Alex, cue three. Sound, cue four and tabs, go.

Soul of the age

The applause, delight

The wonder of our stage

Our Shakespeare, rise!

Our Shakespeare.

For he is all of ours, is he not?

The most performed playwright of all time.

The author of 37 plays...

...a hundred and fifty-four sonnets...

...and several narrative poems that are collectively known...

...as the ultimate expressions of humanity in the English language.

And yet....

And yet...

...not a single manuscript of any kind...

...has ever been found written in Shakespeare's own hand.

ln 400 years, not one document.

He was born the son of a glove maker...

...and at some unknown time, armed...

...but with a grammar-school education...

...he went to London...

...where, the story goes, he became an actor...

...and, eventually, a playwright.

He died at the age of 52.

And he was survived by his wife and two daughters...

...who, like Shakespeare's own father, were irrefutably illiterate.

His will famously left his second-best bed to his widow.

But it made no mention of a single book...

...or manuscript.

Our Shakespeare...

...is a cipher. A ghost.

So let me offer you a different story.

A darker story, of quills and swords.

Of power and betrayal.

Of a stage conquered and a throne lost.

After him!

There he is!

Get him!

Over there!

Hurry!

-Break it down! -Go, lads!

Put your back into it!

Search the place!

Jonson!

-Jonson! -That way!

l know you're in here!

Jonson, show yourself!

Come out!

Out with you, Jonson!

l'll smoke you out like a rat!

-Torch it! -Give it up!

Torch it!

Burn everything!

Do you smell that, Jonson?

That's the smell of your theater going up in flames!

Arrest him!

Shall we to the Tower?

Make way! This is none of your concern!

Chain him here, then leave us.

He was carrying nothing but a quill and some empty pages.

You are Benjamin Jonson, playwright.

Son of William Jonson, glassblower.

Yeah.

And have you ever been arrested before, Mr. Jonson?

l'm a writer, aren't l? Of course l've bloody well been arrested.

Ask him about the plays.

Plays?

Oh, which would you prefer, Sir Robert Cecil? A pastoral?

An historical? An historical pastoral? An hysterical historical pastoral?

We are not interested in your plays, Mr. Jonson.

We're interested in the plays given to you by Edward de Vere...

...Earl of Oxford.

l am sorry, sir.

l am not sure l know whereof you speak.

Where are the plays?

What plays?

-Wonderful, isn't it? -Well, it's certainly big.

l promise you, Edward, you've seen nothing like it!

There won't be puppets, will there?

Step aside, step aside! Make way for my Lords of Oxford and Southampton!

And here come the fool and the jester again, methinks.

The stagecraft is quite spectacular.

Far more elaborate than anything l've seen at court.

Sheart, what a damn'd witty rogue's this!

How he confounds with his similes!

Better with similes than smiles.

And whither were you riding now, signior?

Whither should l ride but to the court?

Pardon me, sir.

Thou never saw'st my gray hobby yet.

Have you such a one?

No!

Ale!

Marlowe, spot me a few pence, will you?

Henslowe owes me for Shoemaker's Holiday.

That's because no one saw Shoemaker's Holiday.

Ale!

Kit, isn't that one of your unrequited loves in the box?

-The Earl of Southampton? -But with whom?

By the beard, that's Edward de Vere, the Earl of Oxford.

Had his own acting troupe for private court performances.

-l wonder if he needs any material. -Certainly not yours.

What, the noble, there? Why, he's a gull!

He's a fool!

The poor man's brain is lighter than his feather!

Enough!

Jonson, wonderful dialogue.

lt's absolutely wonderful.

-Sorry, sire. -Will.

Will Shakespeare. That is not ale in that goblet, is it?

Ale?

Me?

Drink during a performance? l am a professional, Mr. Henslowe.

-Make way! -An utter professional.

Stand aside!

-You stand aside! -Watch yourself!

This play has been declared seditious...

...by Lord William Cecil!

Why don't you disperse William Cecil's arse?

Arrest that man!

Disperse!

This play is seditious...

-...and will not continue! -Seditious?

lt's a comedy! There's nothing seditious about it!

ls that right? And you know this because...?

Because l wrote the bloody thing.

-Arrest this man as well! -What? No, wait--

Please! l'm a poet, for God's sake! l'm not a criminal!

Thus endeth the brief career of one Ben Jonson.

-Disperse! -William Cecil, you're an arsehole!

Well, off to Essex House, then.

l'd like to see his arse dispersed!

Disperse!

Out. Henry, how many people were at that play?

l'm not sure.

Two thousand? Maybe more.

How many performances are there of a play like that?

Five or six, l suppose.

-New service. -By the beard.

Ten thousand souls, all listening to the writings, the ideas of one man.

That's power, Essex.

And if there's one thing the Cecils understand, it's power.

New service!

And since when did words ever win a kingdom?

l'll keep my sword, thank you very much.

Out.

Henry, some of my men have...

...intercepted some of William Cecil's correspondence...

...with King James of Scotland.

Cecil's all but promising him the throne.

To James? Elizabeth would never--

Elizabeth is old. lll.

And yet she refuses to name an heir.

But a Scotsman? On the Tudor throne?

That is why we must do everything in our power to ensure...

...the right man succeeds Elizabeth.

A man deserving of the Tudor crown.

l ask you for the support of you and your men, Henry...

...if it comes to a fight, for me to seize the throne.

You know you need not ask.

l stand with you, as l always have.

Be careful, Henry.

Always concerned for me. What would you have me do?

-Deny him. -The son of the queen?

That is rumor alone, Henry.

Rumor?

All you have to do is look at Essex to see the queen's reflection.

-Everyone thinks he's her son. -My lords.

And l, for one...

...would rather bow to a Tudor, bastard though he may be, than a Scotsman.

My only desire is to see the next king be the rightful king.

But what Essex contemplates will lead to civil war. No.

lf this is to be done...

...it must be done carefully.

Tie her off there.

-l agree, my lord. -My Lord of Southampton.

Sir Robert Cecil.

Have you seen Lord Essex?

He is in the viewing chamber with Her Majesty.

Alone?

With your father in London dealing with troubles in lreland...

...who else should the queen turn to but Essex?

By the grace of God, Her Majesty, Elizabeth...

...Queen of England Wales and lreland.

-Your Majesty. -Your Majesty.

-Your Majesty. -God bless Your Majesty.

God bless Your Majesty.

Your Majesty, my Lord of Southampton has a gift for you.

A gift?

Yes, Your Grace. Though not from me.

Are you the gift, my gracious little man?

No, no, my most majestic Majesty.

l am a free man. My gift is a play.

A play?